


My Eyes Are Green

by LadyFangs



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Hurt, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-19 08:07:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12406446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFangs/pseuds/LadyFangs
Summary: "My eyes are green, cause I eat a lot of vegetables.It don't have nothing to do with your new friend..."  --Erykah BaduRating subject to change.





	1. Part One

Landry knows exactly who stands before her.

“Starfleet’s first mutineer.”

Trash. Garbage. 

Dark, to her light.

Curly hair, to her straight.

Obedience, to rebellion.

A threat.

Burnham looks at her stoically, unresponsive.

.

.

“Bring her to me.”

She looks at him. They’re in his ready room, the lights dimmed. His back is to her, staring out into space. She can see his face reflected in the mirror.

“Why?”

Slowly, he turns. She pulls herself up to her full height as he steps down from around the desk, and comes to stand before her. Lorca has no sense of personal space. He’s close. The heat from his body radiates onto hers. They lock eyes.

“Because I _want_ her. That is an order.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Landry turns on her heels, and leaves. The doors whoosh closed, and once outside, she exhales, the air here, cooler. It counters the heat through her body.

He gave no answer, except one. Want. Not need.

Landry calls another security officer to accompany her. Lorca is captain. She must do as he says.

Later, she watches as the woman enters his ready room. The doors whoosh shut behind her. It feels like a slap to her face.

.

.

“Captain, as your chief of security I strongly disagree with this course of action.”

“And that is your job. Mine is to complete our mission. Burnham will go with you.”

She swallows down the protest. Forces it back. Her opposition is not based in logic. Landry saw how Burnham fought. Intellectually she knows the woman would be an asset should they end up in danger. And she is a prisoner, still, with no rights.

No. Her opposition to this is purely emotional. And Lorca does not respond to emotion, so she merely acknowledges his order.

“Yes, _Captain_.” It comes out biting. Bitter.

His eyes follow her retreating back, but he does not respond.

 “If Lorca wanted you here, you’re intentions are less than moot.” Lieutenant Staments tells Burnham as they make their way to the ghost ship.

Landry remains silent at the exchange. But Staments has voiced her fears. Her insecurity. Because she already knows, even if Burnham does not, that what Lorca wants, he gets.

She knows this because until Burnham set foot on this ship, it was _Landry_ who he wanted. And she gave him _everything_.


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Anything, anytime, Captain.”

It’s a slip of the tongue.

She didn’t mean for it to come out like that…but as he looks at her, as if seeing someone else, she knows, regardless of how it came out…she did mean it. And that alone makes her pray for his dismissal.

But he calls her back, that night. To his private quarters.

“You said, ‘ _anything_ … _anytime_ ’.” Those dark dark eyes burn with quiet intensity and she meets his gaze with equal determination.

“Yes…Captain.”

“Hm…” a small laugh. He turns and takes off his jacket, leaving the black shirt on underneath before coming from in back of her, standing close. Too close. Because Lorca has no sense of personal space..

“What did you mean by that, Commander?” His breath on her neck makes her flush. He does not touch her…but he doesn’t have to.

A reminder. Her rank. His.

She weighs it.

He is asking a question. It demands an answer.

“No one has to know,” he says, a finger trailing up her back, touching her skin….undoing her hair. It falls, cascading in thick, long waves around her shoulders.

“But you would know. I would know.”

He backs away, his warmth replaced by a chill. She shivers from the loss of his heat, despite herself.

“Then you did not mean what you said,” he tells her. She watches him retreat into darkness.

“I always mean what I say,” he tells her. “It’s something I value in people I… care about.”

“Do you care about me, Captain?” It is a bold statement. But she wants to know. HAS to know. In it, she reveals herself.

At that, he comes back out of the shadows and strides toward her, one hand wrapping through her hair, around the back of her head. He peers at her.

“Do you care about me, Commander?”

The touch is like electricity, his voice the spark that lights the flame and she gives. She caves. She breaks….

When his lips touch hers and she allows him to take off her uniform, and lay her down in his bed as he comes to settle between her thighs.

She is no longer Commander.

He is no longer Captain.

Titles are erased with each touch of their bodies, and when he enters her, a woman cries out in passion for a man…a man she has desired since she first set foot on this ship.

And he gives her everything that she could have ever wanted.

Except one thing…

 “Anything?” He asks, when it’s over.

“Anytime.” She tells him, rolling into his warmth. But he moves away from her and gets up. She watches as he slowly begins to dress.

Her chest burns, her breathing shallow, but she follows his silent directive, getting up, and getting dressed too. Her hair is pulled back tightly, and she cannot even look at him right now. She cannot look at anything, really, her focus is blinking back the tears that threaten to fall.

“Commander.”

A shaky exhale. She squeezes her eyes shut, and turns abruptly, standing straight.

“Captain.”

“I’d like you to oversee Burnham’s work.” He tells her. “I will tell you more tomorrow. Dismissed.”

“Yes, SIR.”

She turns on her heel, and walks briskly out of his quarters, and down the hall to her own. Only when the doors close, does she break. Allowing the guilt and the humiliation and the hurt and the burn and the sting of rejection to course over her.

Damn Lorca.

Damn Burnham.

And shame and pity on herself.  


	3. Chapter 3

“We’ll do better next time sir.”

“It will be hard to do worse.”

The remark is apathetic. Still, it singes.

Goddamn him.

Landry’s eyes follow him as he turns away from her and goes to…

Burnham. When did she arrive on the bridge? And how? How and why has a traitor to the federation been afforded such leeway? Such…access…when the rest of them had to _earn_ it?

She KNOWS why. The closed doors. The quiet talks.

Lorca.

“Come with me,” he tells Burnham. Landry scoffs to herself, watching them leave, together.

“Run it from the top,” she commands the crew, ignoring Saru, whose position outranks hers. There are no protests from the crew, who hear the anger in her voice. Nor are there protests from Saru himself, who watches Landry with a studious contemplation. She ignores his stares.

They begin the attack simulation. This time, they’re victorious. But her captain is not there to see it.

.

.

“Landry, my ready room. Now.” It is not a request.

She goes.

“Do NOT defy me. NOT in front of my crew. Are we clear?” His voice is smooth, low. But there is anger in it. A threat. He knows about the simulation test. Her usurpation of command.

She bristles and is prepared to snap back. But it must be her face. He steps down from behind his desk and comes to her.

“There is no room for sentiment in war,” he tells her gently. “We must all do what we have to do to win. And I _need_ you, Commander. I need your loyalty.”

Loyalty. Of which she has given. And he has not.

Her lips purse into a thin line, and she does not respond to it.

“Permission to speak freely, Captain.”

“Granted.”

At this, she lets him have it.

“Have I NOT been loyal? Have I NOT served you in _every_ way? And yet you question my loyalty, when it is all I have ever given you. You parade your pet _traitor_ in front of me and everyone else and you expect this to engender confidence when you know SHE is the cause of the war! I KNOW you, Lorca. And I know what you want from her. And it is not her _loyalty_. But yet you demand only mine. How much more LOYAL must I be?”

His eyes narrow at that. A twitch of the jaw.

“Jealously doesn’t suit you Landry. I thought you were stronger than that. She’s in my lab. I told you last night—I need you to assist her with the…project. We have a war to win. Focus on that.”

.

.

It is the first time she has been alone with Burnham, an opportunity to study the woman up close. She is unimpressed by what she sees.

Emotionless. Analytical. Arrogant.

“Lorca thought you and I would make a good team.” Is all she says in greeting, ready to get this over and done with.

Burnham looks at her, and when she does, Landry thinks she sees…it. A flash of understanding , intensity in those dark eyes that stare back at her. Grudgingly she admits it. That Burnham is beautiful. The way she stands, the way she moves. Quiet power, and grace. Elegance. A life spent among Vulcans. There is more _there_ , here, than she had seen before. Incarceration had not broken her. Mutiny is not defining her.

There is a flash of rage within her so sharp for a moment she sees herself tearing the veil of perfection away from Burnham with her bare hands…

“I am not what you think me to be.”

A blink.

And another.

When she speaks, it is slow. Resolute. “It does not matter what I think. Lorca isn’t interested in what you are,” she tells the other woman, experience informing the words.  “He’s interested in what you can _do_ for him.”

But she does not say more. She does not tell Burnham what happens afterward. When he’s finished. Because she knows all too well what it’s like to be discarded like so many other _things_ , Lorca has no use for, anymore.

**-End Part 3-**


	4. Chapter 4

Discarded and torn.

Funny, how words have a way of becoming prophecies.

She sees herself, lying broken on the bed. She watches, as he approaches her, and it is the first time she sees a flicker of emotion on his face.

It surprises her.

Makes her want to reach out and touch him and she does…only for her hand to pass through.

He cannot see her. He can only see what remains of her shattered body before him.

Lorca lowers his head.

Oh no…has she? Did she?

He turns his face away but it’s still there.

Grief.

When he speaks. It is to Burnham.

“Don’t let her death be in vain,” he tells her before leaving.

She tries to follow, but the doors close in front of her, and she cannot pass.

Still…in death. It is enough.

Landry knows.

She knows that while he did not love her. He did at least…

Care.

It is all she has ever asked of him.


End file.
